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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091905">Star-Gazer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wafflesrock/pseuds/Wafflesrock'>Wafflesrock</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Introspection, implied Shakarian, the Victus family, what do Primarch’s think about</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:14:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wafflesrock/pseuds/Wafflesrock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Primarch Adrien Victus reflects upon his life and those he’s lost. He offers some advice to Garrus about reminding those you care about that you love them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Garrus Vakarian &amp; Adrien Victus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Star-Gazer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer/gifts">Some_Writer</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adrien had discovered that the <em>Normandy</em> lounge was almost always empty at this hour. The human crew was mostly sleeping and those who were awake weren’t looking to star-gaze. </p><p>Sitting on the large couch—turian design, not human, he noticed—he looked out into the ether of infinity beyond the mass effect fields. Stars glinted and flashed like diamonds; the treasury of the cosmos on full display.</p><p>His personal guards had offered to stand at the door, but he’d dismissed them. It was rare that he was allowed total privacy anymore. Adrien had almost forgotten what it was like to hear himself think. The simple pleasure of a private, silent conversation amongst the stars.</p><p>One of his guards, the youngest, Macedyn born Linus, had told him that he’d heard humans believed their dead were reborn as stars. Humans didn’t have one set religious belief for the afterlife as far as Adrien knew. To spend eternity as a star seemed a cold, lonely fate though. </p><p>Linus had been friends with Tarquin. His attempts at sympathy weren’t overt, but Adrien wasn’t blind. He felt himself sag into the cushions at the thought of his son—his <em>late</em> son. </p><p>Parents weren’t supposed to outlive their children. There was no word in the turian dialect to describe a parent who’d lost a child. There was no term to encapsulate his stoic, private hell. Every night before the oblivion of sleep claimed him, it was Tarquin’s face he saw. His precious son. </p><p><em>You failed him,</em> a familiar, poisonous voice whispered from the depths of his grief. <em>You failed as a father. Magrim would disavow you, if she were still alive. </em></p><p>A soft keen escaped through his tightly held mandibles. <em>No. </em>There would be time for mourning and self-loathing later. He had a duty to fulfill and billions of lives depending on him. Other parents with children they still had a hope to see. </p><p>“Primarch.”</p><p>The greeting caught him off-guard but Adrien didn’t react. Turning his head, he watched Garrus quietly go to the bar and pour himself a glass of brandy in a turian-style tumbler. </p><p>“Vakarian,” he said with a nod. “Come to join me?”</p><p>“If that’s alright,” Garrus replied, coming to sit beside him. </p><p>They sat in silence, Garrus occasionally taking a sip of his drink as he stared out the window. His eyes were focused inward, not on the swirling nebulas overhead. </p><p>“I thought you’d be with the Commander at this hour,” Adrien said, watching his advisor from the corner of his eye. Garrus and Shepard were discrete, but not secretive. Everyone onboard knew where—and with whom—Garrus spent his nights. </p><p>Garrus stared down into his glass, mandibles pulling out in a humorless grin. “She’s still working,” he told the remains of his beverage. </p><p>“Still?” Adrien was something of a workaholic himself—more by necessity than habit—but even he knew when to call it quits for the day. Shepard had been awake before him, and considering that humans needed more contiguous sleep than turians…</p><p>“I’m not sure if she wants company right now,” Garrus continued, looking up from his drink. “But if I’m intruding here, I can always return to the battery.”</p><p>“You’re not intruding,” Adrien assured him. “Though it might be prudent to encourage the Commander to get some rest.”</p><p>“Encourage?” Garrus allowed a light, incredulous vocalization to buzz under the spoken word. </p><p>“You’re about the only one she listens to,” Adrien pointed out. “When it comes to her own well-being at least.”</p><p>Garrus flicked his mandibles out in a shrug, sitting up straighter on the couch. “Someone needs to care about her,” he said softly. “She’s not a machine.”</p><p>“No,” Adrien agreed, “she’s not. She’s your mate.”</p><p>Garrus’s eyes snapped wide before turning fully to him. “You know?”</p><p>Adrien just managed to tamp down on his teasing subvocals. Garrus has been around humans too long. The vocalizations he made whenever he spoke of Shepard broadcast to any turian listener the full extent of his devotion.</p><p>“I suspected when she found us on Menae,” Adrien said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “And before that. You talk about her incessantly, you know.” He flicked out a mandible in a soft smirk. “Can’t say I blame you. She’s an incredible soldier, dynamic leader. I’m sure she possesses other qualities that only you know.”</p><p>His thoughts flickered to his own mate; his Magrim. The way she talked quietly to herself as she worked, her nicknames for he and Tarquin—that time she’d lost all leave of her senses and forced them to dress up for professional family photos at an outrageously expensive Cipritine portrait studio. All to prove to her quarian friend that she had a sense of <em>style. </em></p><p>Garrus chuffed, shaking his head. “I like to hope,” he started, mandibles twitching as he seemed to debate whether or not to continue before forging ahead. “That when this is over, we can have a life together. A real life. Somewhere warm, where the only thing to shoot at are targets. We can sleep in. Maybe even… children.”</p><p><em>Would you do it again? </em>Adrien asked himself. <em>Would you have Tarquin knowing the agony you’d endure at losing him?</em></p><p>“Children are the greatest gift you’ll ever know,” Adrien said, voice strained despite his best efforts. “So is love, for that matter. If you have it, you should cherish it.”</p><p>Garrus looked at him. For a brief moment, pity flashed in his eyes before being replaced by resolve. “You’re right,” he said, before throwing back the last of his brandy. “I guess one of the only good things about a war that decides the fate of the galaxy is reminding the ones you care about that, well, you care about them.”</p><p>Garrus stood up, flicking his injured mandible out in a half-smile. “I think I’ll change into some civvies and remind Shepard of that.”</p><p>Adrien rumbled in agreement, waving to Garrus as he left. Alone again, he leaned back onto the couch cushions, eyes staring unseeing out the window. Lifting his wrist, he opened the personal files on his omni-tool, flicking through them until he reached holo images. His finger hesitated a moment before enlarging the selected picture.</p><p>Tarquin was barely five, and dressed fringe to talon in an emerald and white suite with copper buckles. He was gripping Adrien by the leg, small mandibles flared in laughter.</p><p>Adrien himself was young. He carried himself easily, plates buffed to an ebony glint. There was a proud lilt to his mandibles as he stood with an arm wrapped around Magrim’s waist.</p><p>Magrim’s sandy-blonde plates gleamed, her beautiful, sea-green eyes alight with triumph. She was a vision in her formal military attire and knew it. <em>“We were the best looking family at the studio,”</em> she’d informed him as they left. Her head was held high the rest of the day. </p><p>Adrien ran a hand over the holo, the image dancing at the disruption. His family stared back at him, faces frozen in time. </p><p><em>I love you, Mags. Tarquin. I’ll see this through. Guide our people.</em> He closed his eyes, allowing himself the fantasy. <em>When my spirit joins yours, it’ll be somewhere warm. We’ll lend our strength to a healing galaxy.</em></p><p>As he opened his eyes, a pair of shooting stars blazed into view, trails of ethereal stardust fading in their wakes. Adrien smiled. He’d need to sleep soon, before beginning the endless cycle of decisions and orders once more. But for now, he could have this. He could star-gaze and feel his mate and son with him. He could know peace. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It’s Primarch week y’all! I borrowed Magrim from Some_Writer. I can’t imagine anyone else as Adrien’s mate after reading Some’s works.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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